It seems amazing to me that there ever existed in the world a time and place in which one would assume that every member of a male dance troupe is heterosexual. Actually, it probably says less about a societal assumption and more about the distinct person doing the assuming. In fact, and this kinda bugs me in retrospect … the lead assumer here is the head of the National Georgian Ensemble. So, lemme understand this: dude, you’ve been around long enough to make it to the top of the dancing profession (I doubt it gets any higher in Georgia than the director of the national troupe), and you can still assume not a single male taking your direction … you know what, I’m not gonna finish that thought.
The Georgian National Ensemble is a big deal; they get to make road trips. I can’t tell exactly when this film is set, but it’s at a time when 1) self-identifying Georgia is a thing and 2) public homosexuality is not. That seems a small window, no? And Then We Danced is kind of “Fame”-like or “Glee”-like in its “life and times of a performance group” although the film here settles on one specific player.
Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani, who resembles a Georgian Seth Green) is the star of one of the dance movements, but otherwise his stuff just ain’t cutting it these days. While rehearsing the Georgian dance of repressed homosexuality #5, Merab misses one tiny coordinated moment by an eighth-step; in other words, he committed the dancing equivalent of a professional diver doing a cannonball. While an imperceptible misstep to my eye, apparently Merab has embarrassed all of Georgia and mother Russia to boot with his … boot. After the misstep, several people have to take him aside for a tongue-lashing, the last making sure that he leaves the cover sheet on the TPS reports.
The director (one of the Bobs), brings in a pro named Iraki (Bachi Valishvili) – can he do that? Where was Iraki last week? Anyway, now Ivan Ringerov here can threaten Merab’s limited talent. Merab is threatened all right … and also aroused, if he can only admit it. And now a film can break out cuz watching Georgian men dance is kinda painful. Look, from Saturday Night Fever all the way to Airplane!, men dancing can be a cool thing, but it’s quite clear that this aggressive plodding of the Georgian safety dance is intended to display big guns and no whammies. So dudes, quite frankly, it’s about time for an affair of any kind.
I love the part where one of then men claims to have “a girlfriend in Batami.” That’s gotta be the Georgian equivalent of “I have a girlfriend in Canada; you just don’t know her.” Ok, so here’s the thing: I cared little for the dancing in this film; it seemed to exist simply for an outdated political statement. And, much as I whole-heartedly encourage telling a story of homosexuality among a milieu of taboo, I can’t say I cared for either man and didn’t think much of their chemistry. Hence, if you don’t like the dance, the relationships, or either player, it’s very difficult to like the film no matter how much respect you have for it. BTW, And Then We Danced is a Swedish film set in Georgia, which is not unlike an American film set in Columbia (I’ve certainly seen dozens of those); not that it matters, but it was difficult for me to pick up which language it was that I wasn’t understanding.
This dancing seems like an armada
Goose steps and the clomps yadda yadda
Thankful I’m on the fringe
For I can only cringe
When I picture the Georgian lambada
Not Rated, 113 Minutes
Director: Levan Akin
Writer: Levan Akin
Genre: Manly he-man dancing …and homosexuality
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Cannes
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Can’ts
